


Bloodied Streets and Broken Men

by BecauseIAmAWriter



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 15:39:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11107623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BecauseIAmAWriter/pseuds/BecauseIAmAWriter
Summary: Pike lied. Kodos is alive. And it's the Flagship's job to 'detain and deliver' the man to his inevitable trial on Earth.Jim's a little (read: a lot) angry.





	Bloodied Streets and Broken Men

He takes the call in his ready room, something about Pike’s insistence on having this mission briefing in private causing worry to settle heavy in his stomach. The written brief is already loading onto his PADD as Pike’s face flickers into focus on the room’s large screen, but Jim doesn’t so much as glance at it as he register’s the tightness at the corners of Pike’s lips and the helpless resignation in the man’s eyes.

  
‘Jim,’ the man says before the Captain can even open his mouth, and the weighty regret in the Admiral’s voice pulls Jim up short. Pike’s shoulders are slightly slumped, like he doesn’t have the strength to hold himself with full authority for this discussion, and he’s absentmindedly fiddling with the cuff of his Admiral’s uniform just inside the view of the screen.

  
Jim tips his head slightly to the side, brows furrowed in both confusion and concern, and says, ‘Pike? What’s wrong?’

  
Pike releases a sigh and closes his eyes for a moment, as if hoping that when he opens them again this particular conversation won’t be happening, ‘Jim. You might want to sit down.’

  
Something in Pike’s expression has Jim obeying without any real thought, a slightly sick feeling gathering in his throat as he sinks into one of the seats by the long table in the centre of the room. He says nothing, just watches Pike expectantly as apprehension causes his hand to curl tightly around his PADD.

  
Straightening his shoulders and smoothing out his expression, as if he can’t bear to say this without distancing himself from it first, Pike says, ‘Kodos is alive.’

  
Jim freezes as his world falls abruptly out from underneath his feet. He’s numb and burning all at once and he can’t comprehend what Pike has just said, blinking slowly against the knowledge just imparted.

  
His voice, when he speaks, is deadly cold, ‘What?’

  
Pike’s mouth tightens further but he continues to speak in an even tone with the same tenacity of a soldier trudging through the trenches because he has no other choice, ‘A survivor of the Tarsus Massacre has identified a man going by the name of Anton Karidian as the fugitive Kodos the Executioner. Starfleet has confirmed the claim; Karidian is Kodos.’

  
A muscle in Jim’s jaw twitches and his gaze is scalding where it burns into Pike, ‘Fugitive? We were told he was dead.’

  
‘Yes,’ Pike says, and there is no regret in his tone.

  
Jim surges to his feet, fury washing over his face like a storm wave over a lonely fishing boat. ‘You told me he was dead!’ he shouts and Pike flinches at the pain lingering just beneath the outrage.

  
Pike purses his lips because he hates this. Hates that this tiny sliver of knowledge has so immediately thrown Jim back to that angry and terrified little kid he was when Pike first met him, starving but desperately and savagely protecting the kids under his care all the same. Pike hates that Jim has come so far and yet this simple thing is still so easily capable of breaking him.

  
‘I did,’ Pike says calmly and without remorse, because he still remembers that scared little kid asking if Kodos was dead. Pike still remembers thinking of a burnt and unidentifiable body found within the Governor’s house and telling those kids that it was Kodos, because for them, at least, it needed to be Kodos.

  
‘You lied to me, to all of us,’ Jim says, and although he’s forcibly reigned in his rage his voice is still sharper than knives. The accusation is clear in his heated gaze and the vicious downturn of his lips.

  
‘I did.’ Pike says again and then sighs heavily once more, ‘The Enterprise, as the ‘fleet’s flagship, has been assigned the task of collecting the fugitive and delivering him safely for trial. I don’t need to tell you the significance of such a high-profile target.’

  
Jim inhales sharply, his displeasure written in every taught line of his body and the silent snarl that stretches his mouth. ‘Of course,’ he grits out, and his sneer barely hides the despair of that broken little boy from so long ago.

  
Pike’s eyes soften, because he knows how hard this is, but he continues on anyway, ‘The full mission briefing is on your PADD, I trust you’ll treat this mission as any other.’  
Jim says nothing but his head nods jerkily, gaze involuntarily locked on the PADD grasped tightly in his white-knuckled grip.

  
‘I’m sorry, Jim,’ Pike says after a brief pause, voice impossibly understanding. The screen flickers to black and Jim presses the button to turn on his PADD with a shaking hand.

  
There, large and imposing in the centre of his screen, is the picture of an old man with all too familiar eyes. The carefully suppressed fury rears its ugly head once more, coursing through Jim’s veins with the unstoppable force of a stampede of horses, and he hurls the PADD across the room as a hoarse and truly heart-breaking roar of rage and pain tears itself from his throat. Then he collapses back into his chair and lets his face fall forward into his hands and feels the angry, grief-filled tears carve wet trails down his cheeks.

  
James Tiberius Kirk does not believe in no-win scenarios, but that doesn’t mean he is unfamiliar with despair.

 

* * *

 

_Jim is eleven when he drives his Dad’s car off a cliff, and it is his Dad’s,_ Goddammit _, no matter how much Frank claims it as his own. Frank doesn’t deserve it, Jim thinks as he races towards the edge, adrenaline like fire in his veins and the entire experience terrifyingly exhilarating. For a moment he thinks he might go flying with the car, thinks it might be for the best now that Sam’s gone and his mother is never on-world and there’s no one around to protect him from Frank’s drunken anger._

  
_But then he jumps from the car and scrabbles at the cliff edge and pulls himself back onto solid ground because he’s James Tiberius Kirk and he doesn’t believe in giving up and he won’t be beaten down by some drunken asshole who can’t tell a Starship’s weapons from its Warp Core._

  
_The car is the last straw and he gets sent off-world to live with some distant family on a colony far away from Frank’s abuse and Sam’s cowardice and his mother’s inability to look at him. Jim couldn’t be happier._

  
_The place he’s sent to is good, beautiful, and his family there actually seems to care. It’s odd for Jim, but great, too, and he thinks that life can’t get better than this. Thinks life can’t get better than a family who cares and friends who don’t resent his genius and a school that actually challenges him._

  
_Jim thinks he’ll never want to leave Tarsus IV._

  
_Jim couldn’t be more wrong._

 

* * *

 

Jim’s lips are pressed into a thin, tight line over his gritted teeth and his nails dig uncaringly into his arms where they’re crossed over his chest. When she glances at Jim’s face, Uhura can see that her Captain’s eyes are stormy, anger and pain and what Uhura would almost call a faint trace of _despair_ dancing in the azure pools like an intense and heart-breaking ballet.

  
The bridge crew, that is, Jim’s most trusted friends and advisors, are silent as they read over the mission brief they have just received. Their backs are straight, their shoulders are hard lines and their muscles are tensed. They feel prepared to jump up and fight at a moment’s notice even though all they’re doing is sitting around a table reading a fairly mild brief. They’re Captain’s barely concealed, although tightly controlled, emotions are affecting them all, heightening their senses and causing worry to churn in their guts.

  
They continue to read their briefs, confusion the most common and prominent feeling among them all – even Spock.

  
The Captain stands at the head of the table, tension coiled in every line of his body, and the crew keep casting concerned gazes at him every few lines. They’ve never seen him like this before, hurt and angry and _haunted_ , so very, very haunted.

  
_A fugitive going by the name of Anton Karidian has been spotted on Planet Q_ , the brief says and below the words is a picture of an elder man, probably in his sixties, with long white hair and a confident demeanour. _His true identity has been confirmed as that of Governor Kodos of Tarsus IV, otherwise known as Kodos the Executioner_ , the brief continues and then goes on to list the man’s many crimes, the mass murder of four-thousand innocent people being first and foremost, as if every Starfleet Cadet isn’t taught this particular man’s crimes as a case study in Ethics. Below all of this is a short statement detailing that the Enterprise’s mission will be to _‘detain and deliver the criminal for trial’._

  
The crew hate the criminal, are disgusted by his actions, angry for those who were hurt by him and mournful for those who were lost under his command. But these feelings are second-hand, a result of the facts that they know, and they cannot understand why their Captain’s reaction is so visceral.

  
The crew finish the brief and one by one they look to their Captain and they feel sickened by what they have read but they do not _understand_ their Captain’s all-encompassing fury.

  
Jim works his jaw for a minute, evidently fighting for control, but eventually he growls from between clenched teeth, ‘Chekov set a course for Planet Q. Uhura, send out a ship-wide brief of our mission.’ His words are stilted, anger underlining them. Then he drops his arms to his sides, fists clenching involuntarily, and turns sharply on his heel to stride from the room. The crew watches the unyielding line of his back as he leaves and they do not understand.

 

* * *

 

_Jim is thirteen when he learns that everything good must come to an end. The world is crumbling around him, an echo of the day he was born, and everyone is screaming and crying and despair is heavy in the air._

  
_‘Your continued existence represents a threat to the well-being of society. Your lives mean slow death to the more valued members of the colony,’ Kodos says as four-thousand people watch on in fear, uncomprehending but terrified all the same, ‘Your execution is so ordered. Signed, Kodos, Governor of Tarsus IV.’_

  
_His men start shooting, the low buzz of phaser fire barely audible over the hysterics of the population, and people start dropping, bodies piling on each other. Jim watches his family die and the streets run red with blood, too much blood, their world is drowning in blood._

  
_He runs, gathering children as he does, herding them out of the scarlet square amidst the confusion, praying that they’ll be overlooked among the chaos that surrounds them. They reach the woods, stumbling and crying and gasping, and the grief sits heavy in Jim’s chest and just below that a panic that he cannot let himself truly feel. He’s pulled these kids from certain, immediate death (the little Vulcan boy and the twin Orion girls and his best mate Tommy and little Kevin Riley who’s barely even five) and now it’s his job to keep them safe._

  
_So, they run and they run and they run and they keep on running until their feet are bleeding and they can’t breathe for it and then they run some more. They run until they find a place to hide, far away from that crimson square where their families lie with dead eyes and cold skin. Everything hurts, their feet and their heads and their hearts, and it feels like they’ll never be okay again. They’re hungry, but they’re used to that, have been growing used to it for months. That’s what started this after all._

  
_Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jim knows that none of this makes sense. On some level he knows it’s wrong, and not just because four-thousand people were just murdered on the whim of a madman. It’s wrong because Kodos had claimed he was saving the more valued members of society but Jim knows that he had Hoshi Sato killed and she was the most skilled linguist in the known universe, surely she must have held value. Jim also knows that Kodos knew that Jim had a genius level IQ and as such, by Kodos’ theory of eugenics, Jim should have been safe._

  
_Jim wasn’t safe, he was on the kill list, and he can’t really comprehend this. Jim cannot begin to understand the way his perfect world has shattered and he can’t really wrap his mind around what is so fundamentally wrong with Kodos’ claims because he may have a genius IQ but he’s already been starving for months and now everything that matters is gone and_ what is even the point anymore?

  
_Jim doesn’t give up though, just like with the car, because hell if he’s going to let some whacko with a god complex determine his fate. He is James Tiberius Kirk and he doesn’t believe in no win scenario’s._

  
_And if the only screw you he can give to Kodos is his own survival, then_ Goddammit _, he will survive._

 

* * *

 

‘James Tiberius Kirk,’ Kodos says when they catch him, have him surrounded by ship personnel with phaser’s drawn and trigger-happy fingers, ‘Or are you still going by JT?’

  
‘You’ll address me as Captain Kirk,’ Jim answers, voice as carefully neutral as his face is blank. Behind his back his clasped hands tremble and he can feel the weight of Spock’s observant gaze on them.

  
Kodos tilts his head and smirks, utterly unrepentant, ‘A Captain, eh? That’s a far cry from the skinny little miscreant I remember.’

  
Jim stretches his neck just slightly, head tilting up in an involuntary show of defiance as he grits his teeth and doesn’t comment.

  
Kodos’ smirk widens, ‘What, no answer? I remember a time when you couldn’t help but spit insults and vulgarities in my direction.’ His gaze turns thoughtful, ‘But then again, I suppose that wouldn’t be becoming of a Starship Captain,’ he claps his hands in delight and then raises them mockingly in a sign of peace at the sound of a Phaser clicking from stun to lethal, ‘and the Captain of the Flagship as well! Perhaps I was wrong about you, James Kirk, you have accomplished great things after all. I suppose that it’s a good thing I let you live.’

  
Jim breathes in deeply at the man’s words, determined not to crumple under them. Around them the distinct sound of multiple Phaser’s clicking to lethal is apparent – now his crew understands – but what draws the attention of everyone is a voice that cuts clear through the tension.

  
‘Logic dictates,’ Spock says, and although his voice is as neutral as always there is a coldness to it that makes a shiver run down Kodos’ spine, ‘that our Captain survived despite you. His very survival is proof enough that your theories were unfounded. As such, you are under arrest for your crimes on Tarsus IV and will be escorted back to Earth where you will stand trial and your victim’s will receive justice.’

  
As if Spock’s words are a cue, four ship personnel surge forward to grab him. One yanks Kodos’ arms behind his back, with little care for causing injury, and then locks cuffs far too tight around the man’s wrists. They call for a beam up and Jim watches with surprising satisfaction as they disappear, a strange sense of closure diminishing the weight on his shoulders. Something tells him that he will not see Kodos again before the trial; his crew are loyal and after the man’s blatant disrespect they will ensure that Jim is not required to withstand his presence again.

  
‘Jim,’ Spock says, and Jim turns cautiously toward the Vulcan, half expecting to find pity in the man’s expressive human eyes. Instead Jim finds the same respect that Spock has held for him since the incident with Nero and he breathes a quiet sigh of relief.

  
Spock raises an eyebrow and asks rather mildly, ‘Would you care for a game of chess, Captain?’

  
Jim lets a bright smile stretch across his face and nods his assent. Despair will always be a too familiar feeling but, despite this, he does not believe in no-win scenarios, and that’s enough.


End file.
